


Why Does Ikea Suck So Much

by indecisive (darling_highness)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel Fluff, M/M, domestic AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 08:05:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4012084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darling_highness/pseuds/indecisive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was prompted to write Dean and Cas building Ikea furniture and it ended up being super fluffy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Does Ikea Suck So Much

“I regret this.”

“Dean, it's just a coffee table.”

“It's a coffee table from _Ikea_.”

A mass of metal pieces and cheap-looking boards was spread out before the pair. Dean looked at the disaster doubtfully while Cas examined the instructions. “I can't find the English instructions,” Cast muttered, tilting his head.

Dean looked at the other, his eyebrows showing all his skepticism. “You're a freakin' angel of The Lord and you can't find instructions? Why does an angel of The Lord even need instructions?”

Cas squinted at him. “For one, we were designed to take orders, and two, it's a coffee table.”

“Okay fine, let's just get this over with. We don't need instructions.” Dean picked up a metal rod and spun it around, then hesitated.

Castiel sighed. “Find the base of it. The board in the box with the glass. We have to put the feet on it first.”

Dean groaned and dropped the rod. “This is already too much work.”

“You're acting like an infant, Dean. Get the pieces. Okay good. I think the feet go on that side. No- look at the picture.” Castiel directed Dean, offering him tools when needed. Two hours and more than enough griping later, the pair had it. Sort of. The table was lop-sided and collapsed the second Dean placed a hammer on top of it as a test of strength.

“Oh my God!” Dean cried and threw himself back on the tile floor. “Why do we even need a coffee table?”

“Dean.” Cas warned. “We need one because you came home and fell on it in the dark. Not to mention, you were intoxicated.”

“That's new,” he quipped. “Why don't we just buy one already put together? That makes life easier.”

Castiel shook his head and patted Dean's thigh. “We aren't made of money. Let's try again. I think our mistake was in the attaching of the pillars.”

“Slow down, tiger.” Dean sat up and leaned over, slinging his arm around the sable-haired man. “Why don't we take a break for now?” He kissed Castiel's jaw a few times in an attempt to hint at what “take a break” really meant.

Cas tangled his fingers in Dean's hair, sighing. “Not now, Dean. Maybe when we're done, though, and you don't complain too much, we can do other things. But you have to help.” That seemed to encourage Dean enough for him to sit up and strip the table down. They worked on building the table right for a while, with Cas constantly needing to remind Dean he shouldn't be complaining. Building this table was the equivalent of pulling teeth for both parties, but they ended successfully with an awkward coffee table that could hold more than a feather's weight. Immediately Dean captured his lover in an embrace and planted a needy kiss on his lips. Castiel smiled and caressed the brunet's cheeks, peppering his face in kisses. “At least buy me dinner first,” he laughed, a smirk making his dimples show.

“Your sarcasm ain't half bad anymore,” Dean noted as he combed his fingers through Castiel's hair. They pressed their lips together lovingly. “How about we have a kick back night? Action movies and pizza sounds like my cup of tea.”

Cas laughed and nodded. “That sounds fine. I'll get the pizza, and you can find a movie we'd both enjoy.” He put emphasis on the last part.

“Got it. Everyone loves The Godfather.” Dean kissed the angel one last time and went to put in the movie. Both the boys enjoyed nights like these: where they were almost normal, living relatively domestic lives. If domestic was living in a bunker made by the legendary Men of Letters.

Castiel entered the living room about half an hour later and handed a cold beer to Dean and set the medium pizza on the table. On top of it was a couple slices of pie. Dean grinned from ear to ear. “You used your angel mojo to do a food run? Man, you're awesome. You're the best.” Dean wrapped his arm tight around the angel, nuzzling his shoulder.

“All for you, Dean,” he replied in a gentle voice. Castiel buried his face in the hunter's hair and breathed a quiet “I love you.”

“That was my line, dork. I love you too. So much. Always have, always will.” He pressed a few more kisses to his lover's neck and cheek. They settled in for a night of bad movies and some of the best damn pizza and pie, if Dean would say so.


End file.
